


Reach Out, Hold Tight (A Netteflix retelling of Tam Lin)

by Tearose_romantic



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Felix Hugo Fraldarius Being an Asshole, Not Canon Compliant, Original Songs, Rating May Change, Sassy Annette Fantine Dominic, Soft Felix Hugo Fraldarius, TWSITD as fae, Tam Lin - Freeform, Transformation, True Love, Unplanned Pregnancy, magical hugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28563588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tearose_romantic/pseuds/Tearose_romantic
Summary: The woods of Faerghus have grown more dangerous of late.  Traveling through the woods requires a toll to the Unseen Court, a people of myth believed to have been driven underground by the Goddess in the ancient past.  Unspeakable horrors wait any who dare trespass without proper payment.Annette Dominic, bored and eager for adventure, does not heed the warnings.  She meets a dark figure in the woods.  Whether he is fae or not is unclear, but one thing is clear: she has his attention.A retelling of the ballad of Tam Lin with Felix and Annette.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Annette Fantine Dominic's Mother, Annette Fantine Dominic & Mercedes von Martritz, Annette Fantine Dominic's Mother/Gilbert Pronislav, Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. Prologue

Of late, tales have surfaced within the woods of Faerghus. Whispers echo throughout the Holy Kingdom of entire companies of knights slain for passing through their dark, twisting paths. Shadowy figures swifter than the eye can follow, otherworldly some say, prowl in the forest’s depths. Some survivors have gone mad, recounting stories of pale-faced figures fighting with weapons and magic unlike any in all of Fódlan. Maidens defiled when traveling unaccompanied, unless a token for safety is left in the undergrowth. Merchants’ produce and wares rotting in the cart, the only warning a sound like distant whispers in a foreign tongue. Travelers passing through the realm all tread carefully through the woods now. So fearful have these happenings become, that it is now common practice to travel in groups, and even then a token for safety--a ring, a cape, a lock of hair, a dish of cream. A toll for passage must be paid. And none are so bold as to travel near dawn and dusk, when the ghostly figures seem to attack the most. 

“Stop it, Mercie! You’re going to give me nightmares!” Annette shoved a pillow playfully at her visitor, careful not to knock over the candlestick illuminating the bedroom. 

A smile equal parts sweet and teasing graced the storyteller’s face. “Oh, but don’t you enjoy scary stories, Annie?”

“Not when they ring so close to home,” the red-haired maiden groused over the tittering of her best friend. She had hoped their last conversation of the night would not veer to such dark and scary corners of the world. Unfortunately, Mercedes loved these stories of the mysterious and otherworldly, especially as the evening grew longer and the beeswax taper grew shorter. 

Mercedes’ smile only widened at Annette’s resistance. “You have to admit that folks have been rather on edge of late. Isn’t it fun to imagine it’s the Kingdom Under the Hills sending out soldiers to protect their woods?” 

“I dunno,” Annette tucked her chin to her knees, “I feel like it wouldn’t make much of a difference. Everyone’s so scared to travel. We hardly get visitors anymore, and traders are reluctant to risk the roads. If it’s Sreng scouting raids or the Unseen Court popping out of the ground, what difference does it make?”

Mercedes ran her fingers through her long, flaxen hair, “Well, the Unseen Court have certain rules they follow. Like, a green cloak can hide you from their eyes, or they have a fondness for dairy and fruit offerings. That gives you a bit more power over them than human scouts, right?” 

“Ooooh, it just gives me the willies regardless,” Annette shivered under her cotton shift. “I just want life to go back to normal. Whoever these villains are can leave us in peace, can’t they?” 

“Well, we can certainly hope so,” Mercedes’s serenity was something of an enigma to Annette. The young priestess seemed to take comfort in the fact that the world was full of mystery and darkness. Her faith seemed unshakable, even as she spoke of the legends that had plagued Fódlan for generations. A people older than the humans of the land, driven underground. Hiding but always there. Deep, full of magic, and full of possessiveness for the land the Goddess pushed them underneath. Annette didn’t put much stock in the stories, but she couldn’t quite keep her spine from shivering as the tales were told. 

“Can we end on something a little less...spooky?” Annette pleaded, “I don’t want to have nightmares on the last night of your visit.”

“For you, Annie, I think I can manage,” Mercedes embraced her dear friend as they crowded closer together. “Now let’s see. There’s the story of 'The Merman Prophet' that you may like. Or would you prefer 'The First Garland'?” 

Under the soft candlelight, the two maidens stole a moment together, loathing a parting to come. For the woods had become dangerous, and they knew this visit would likely be their last for a great, long while.


	2. Chapter 1

Isolation did not suit young Annette Fantine Dominic, not one bit. Her uncle did his best to make the barony an entertaining place for her, but there were only so many times she could read the entirety of the library and only so many of the knights in their employ who would tolerate her companionship. It had been months since any ladies of the realm or classmates from the School of Sorcery paid them a visit. And after they left, the chill they left behind made her boredom all the more insufferable. 

Especially since her dearest friend’s most recent departure, Annette found herself absolutely hungry for any sort of diversion. Hardly any news or visitors traveled by road anymore, and the School of Sorcery had temporarily ended classes out of concern for the recent unrest. Annette tried to give herself a routine, like her mother had suggested, but it seemed to always fall by the wayside within a week. 

Annette knew things were precarious, yet her boredom had grown more and more profound as each day ticked by with painful sameness. As she sat in the window seat, legs kicking the baseboards in a listless cadence, Annette found her eyes roving the nearby woods. She thought about her favorite patch of forest, full of rich foliage and burbling streams. The last little gift her father had given her before his disappearance. 

Carterhaugh Woods were not as large as they once were. They’d been thinned for timber over many generations of Dominic forestry. Even still, there was a paradoxical calm she always felt there in that little wild wood. She’d traveled through Carterhaugh for little picnics all the time, and she’d never once felt unsafe. Now, she even had her magecraft to defend herself. Who was to keep her from a quick, diversionary trip to _her_ woods? Emboldened, Annette tied back her hair, and drew up her skirts. It was time to get out of this gods-forsaken manor. 

So through the wild woods Annette trapsed, her fiery hair bound up in looping braids and her green cloak trailing behind her. Happy as a lark, Annette inhaled the cool air deeply as she made her way through the twining undergrowth. The depths of the trees and the dense plantlife always seemed to rustle with life and thrum with an energy that Castle Dominic never could, especially not of late. 

Carterhaugh Woods were a far cry from the manicured gardens of Dominic, and Annette adored them for it. Though the brambles and thorns seemed to snag her verdant cloak with each step--threatening to trip her or lead her down a false trail--the sheer beauty of the forest drew her ever inward. That same wild liveliness that tugged her cloak like a teasing classmate felt like a balm upon Annette’s mind. She could finally focus on something unpredictable and beautiful and wild. What danger could she have in _her_ forest? 

As she ventured deeper into the undergrowth, she marveled at the smell of morning dew and wild pine. The air itself seemed to thrum with a slow, steady energy of life and growth. Annette couldn’t be happier for the change of pace from the stagnant air of the library. The sight of birds flitting from tree to tree enraptured the maiden’s easily-distracted attention, and she smiled as she followed their flight from branch to branch. As she gazed around the canopy she hardly noticed the shadows flitting about behind her. 

Walking aimlessly forward, eyes still trained on the sky, Annette found herself wanting to sing along with the bluebirds and robins. As she thought about what she would sing, her thoughts wandered to a patch of wild roses nearby that--if she remembered correctly--would be perfect to make garlands from. Though the Garland Moon’s crowning celebration this year would be restricted to her uncle, mother, and the staff her uncle employed, she still felt giddy at the prospect of the Day of Devotion approaching. 

With newfound motivation to her directionless ambling, Annette began to sing a little ditty as she wandered through the forest. All the while unaware that the shadow tailing her drew closer and closer with each note.

 _“Oh little roses, where are you hiding,  
deep in the forest green?  
With your petals so fair,  
and scent oh so rare,  
and your thorny stems so me_\--aaaAAAANN.” 

Annette tumbled unceremoniously into the dirt. 

“What tree thought it was a good idea to put a root above the ground, hunh?”, she muttered to no one in particular, dusting herself off while nursing her wounded pride. “Nice going, Annie. Even the birds are laughing at that little stunt.” The light tittering--which she thought were the sparrows nearby--did seem a little off. It nearly sounded human for a moment... 

With a shrug, Annette pushed herself up off the ground. As she rose, the young lady’s face bloomed into a wide smile, her clumsy spill completely forgotten. “There they are!” she crowed victoriously, tearing through the clearing with reckless abandon. 

Ahead, in a small clearing, lay the tangle of wild rose bushes. Right where she remembered. “You’ve still got it, Annie,” she smiled with the slightest swagger in her step. The white roses were just as lovely as she remembered them. Their delicate petals still shimmered with the last remnants of the morning dew, fragrant and lovely. “Mercie would love these!” she plopped down to her knees as she inhaled appreciatively. “Wild roses always smell so much better than the garden ones anyways.” 

This would be the perfect way to spend the morning. Gather up some choice blossoms, maybe work on one or two garlands, and then head home before lunchtime. While she didn’t put much stock into Mercedes’ ghost tales, she did wish to err on the side of caution. No sense tempting fate or her mother’s concern, she figured pragmatically. 

As she settled on her knees, Annette began singing a garland song her mother taught her long ago. Her fingers--still ink-stained from her last deep-dive into sigil construction--deftly selected a few long stems of the choicest blooms. With the dagger she kept in her pack, she cut each stem with the precision of a seasoned gardener. 

_“Garland white and round  
upon my dear one’s head,  
like the sun’s arising,  
may our love never end._

_I’ll hold thee in my heart  
with roses white as snow,  
and kisses sweet upon thy cheek  
our love shall grow and grow.” _

Though she had no suitor to give them to--though not for lack of trying on her uncle’s part-- Annette loved making garlands for her friends and family. It felt festive this time of year. For who didn’t enjoy knowing they were special to someone? Maybe one day she’d have someone special to give the garland to, or maybe she’d just join Mercedes as a nun of the Church. Who could know something as inscrutable as the future? 

As she reached for another stem, Annette heard a rustling behind her. The song died in her throat. It sounded too loud to be a squirrel, and far too slow and deliberate to be a wild boar. Her heart hammered wildly as she whirled around, fingertips sparking with wind magic as she dropped her half-finished garland. “Show yourself,” she spoke with all the authority her small frame could muster, hiding the wobble of fear in her voice as best as she was able. 

“I wasn’t hiding.” 

Annette whirled behind herself to find a man standing at the edge of the clearing, just in the shadows of the poplars. “Who are you?” she challenged, her hands ready to cast at a moment’s notice. 

“The warden of these woods,” the young man replied, his voice acerbic. 

This stranger was a young man, wiry and short with dark hair bound back and amber eyes, wearing some strange livery she did not recognize. She stood up to her full height, (though it was hardly an intimidating height), and practiced her best baroness-apparent voice. “Well, that’s a lie. I know the warden quite well and you aren’t him,” Annette challenged boldly, glad that her long skirts and cloak hid her still-shaking knees. 

“Are you so bold as to claim you own these woods?” the stranger’s lips quirked in a sardonic smile. Annette could now see he had a longsword on his hip. She trained her eyes on him carefully. 

“As a matter of fact, yes,” she replied haughtily. “Carterhaugh Wood was a gift from my father, so I don’t need some skulking vagabond telling me I can and can’t be here. If anything, I should be telling you off for trespassing.” 

Her cheeky response elicited a few surprised blinks from the sallow-faced man. “Haven’t you heard the stories?”

“Of the Fair Folk reclaiming the woods of Faerghus? Why should that scare me?” she replied boldly, wind whipping around her outstretched hands, hopefully hiding their trembling.

The stranger stopped his advance, eyeing the magic swirling on her fingertips with a calculating stare. “They’re true,” he replied simply. Annette’s stomach lurched. This time she couldn’t hide the look of fear in her eyes. “You’ve taken something from the forest, and now there is the toll to pay.”

In answer, Annette whipped her wrists and flung the readied blades of wind at her assailant. The stranger’s golden eyes widened slightly in surprise before dodging fluidly. In a panic, Annette started to ready another blade, before realizing that the stranger did not close the distance between them. His hands lay tense at his side, making no attempt to unsheathe his sword. Though his eyes remained sharply trained on her. 

Annette tried to keep her breathing calm as she watched this stranger, clearly threatening her but making no move to engage her in combat. Although he did not strike, his stance remained wide and ready to move again, his wiry frame coiled like a spring. She decided to call this man’s bluff. Still, Annette made a point of keeping her magic at the ready. “So you mean to tell me that I need to pay a toll to visit _my_ woods and you’ll leave me be?” 

The stranger replied sardonically, “That was indeed what I said earlier.” 

“That seems rather unfair,” Annette quipped back. She refused to let this man--if a man he really was--intimidate her. Or at least, she refused to let him _know_ that he intimidated her. 

“It’s not a matter of fairness. It’s a matter of orders,” the man spat out the word bitterly. 

“So what you’re telling me is you’re lying?”, Annette allowed herself a cheeky smile. 

“Begging your pardon?”, the man bristled. Annette smiled internally. She’d found an opening. 

“Well, if you aren’t doing this because you want to, then you aren’t really in charge of these woods. Case in point: you’re lying.” 

“You’ve got quite the tongue on you, miss.” The man’s thin brow knit in irritation. She’d hit a nerve, just as she’d hoped. 

Annette curtsied coquettishly, and replied, “I’ve been told as much.”

The stranger continued, “But I did say I’m a warden. I’m watching the woods on behalf of my...superiors. And they say tolls must be paid for all who pass through the woods.” 

“Hmmm, no.” Annette desperately hoped she could ruffle this ruffian just a little more. She almost had her trap ready. 

The man’s thin, black brows twitched as his irritation grew. “You’ve heard the stories, right?”

Annette spoke carefully and precisely, just like explaining the steps in a magical theorem. Time for the lynchpin of her stratagem. “Yes, but those same stories say the Unseen Ones are most powerful at dawn and dusk, and it’s the middle of the day. Even if you are fae--like you seem to be suggesting--I can take you on my own just fine at this hour. But in any case, you could see me even with a green cloak on. So I’m inclined to think you’re lying anyways and are--in fact--human. In which case, I’ve no reason to fear you either way, as I can simply curse you into next week and get back to enjoying my day.” 

“Look, just pay the toll and we can both be done with this mess,” he spat. The stranger’s patience had clearly reached its limit. 

So far, so good. Now for the final piece. Annette made a show of thinking briefly, tapping her chin with her free hand. “Hmmm, how about a trade then?”

Arms akimbo, the man sighed in exasperation, “This isn’t up for discussion. You cut those roses. Now you need to pay up.” 

“Again, I will remind you, these are my woods. But more importantly, I actually outclass you, Mr. Warden.” Annette took a little pleasure in how he seemed to seethe at the mention of his position as subordinate to someone else. “You aren’t at your full strength, and I’m at the height of my game.” Annette hoped she was bluffing convincingly enough. Her voice had grown steadier as the standoff continued. “So, I could offer us an easy way out. I offer _you_ something, and your bosses don’t need to find out about this little encounter.” 

Annette watched the stranger carefully and prayed that the next step would succeed. Clearly, she’d worked up his touchy temper appropriately. Now, he simply needed to take the bait she had so enticingly laid out. His piercing amber eyes darted back and forth, clearly conflicted. But as soon as his frown deepened, Annette knew she’d won. “Fine, what’s your offer?” 

“It’s twofold: I’ll give you the garland I was making, and a little music to go with it. I’m sure even the Kingdom Under the Hill celebrates the Garland Moon.” Annette gave her brightest smile, pleased at her gambit succeeding so far. 

The man seemed to hesitate for a moment, before plopping onto the grass in a huff. “Deal, but only because I liked your singing earlier.” 

Annette breathed a sigh of relief and thanked the Goddess that she’d managed to win him over. “I suppose a compliment from an _eavesdropper_ is still a compliment,” she replied saucily, still a bit mad at being so rudely spied on. 

Gathering up the garland she’d been working on, she continued weaving the flowers together. Her intruder scowled from a few feet away, but his deep-set eyes never left her. Annette made a point of humming blithely as she worked, forcing an air of lighthearted disinterest. Meanwhile, her heart was still pounding. She didn’t exactly believe that he was a fae, but the speed at which he’d dodged her magic was decidedly inhuman. Still, he had no other fae-like features from the stories of the Unseen Court: no pointed ears, no pale-gray skin, no aversion to iron or steel, and no glowing eyes. By all accounts, he seemed human--albeit an extremely grumpy one. This little wager, if she was careful, would cover either situation handily. 

“What music do you care for, Mr. Warden?” she asked, taking a moment to gather some snowdrops by her feet to weave into the crown. 

The man--who appeared not much older than herself as she looked closer--seemed unsure of how to handle her query. “What kind of question is that?”

“A reasonable kind for someone who has to entertain,” Annette quipped back. 

With a huff, the man trained his gaze off in the distance. Annette recognized the distinct bruise of wounded masculine pride. She’d seen that look on her male classmates many a time when she refuted their magic theory dissertations. “Whatever kind you were doing earlier.”

“Very well, an original composition it is,” Annette used a small bit of twine to tie the last bit of the crown in place. 

“You wrote that yourself?” the man’s attention returned to her. His amber eyes brighter, more engaged. 

Annette stood up as she walked toward her audience of one. “Well, of course not ‘Garland White and Round’, that song is older than I am. But ‘The Flower Hunting Song’ is just a little thing I wrote one day. Which one were you talking about?” 

“The flower hunting one,” the man replied tersely, his gaze now firmly on Annette. 

“Alrighty then!” Annette plopped the crown unceremoniously onto the man’s head. “One crown and one song, as promised!” 

Clearing her throat, Annette began to sing “The Flower Hunting Song” in full, all the while keeping her eyes carefully trained on her attentive audience. 

_“Oh little roses, where are you hiding,  
deep in the forest green?  
With your petals so fair,  
and scent oh so rare,  
and your thorny stems so mean._

_I’m making garlands for my beloved  
So please come out to play.  
I’ll weave you with care  
To place in his hair  
On this oh so special day. _

_So little roses, show me your faces,  
Grant me my dearest wish.  
Help me win his heart  
So this day can start  
And finish with a sweet kiss.”_

Annette did her best to calm the blush threatening to give away the disaffected air she was trying to cultivate. She _never_ sang in front of anyone, especially not her own silly ditties! But she couldn’t let this highwayman think he had the upper hand, so pretend she must. 

Fortunately, her audience seemed ignorant to her embarrassment. He was fidgeting with the garland of roses, trying to get the crown to sit neatly on his head, but in the process causing his neatly tied hair to fall into disarray. It was...funny, almost endearing. If the man hadn’t threatened her just minutes before, Annette could almost find him tolerable. 

“You...you sing good,” he replied lamely, not meeting Annette’s eyes. He continued to try (and fail) readjusting the floral crown on his head. 

Taking pity, Annette knelt down and fixed it for him, brushing back his stray hairs as she did. “Thank you, Mr. Warden. I trust this makes us even?” 

The man met her gaze. While they remained steely, she could see something softening in his amber eyes. “I guess,” he dropped his gaze and folded his arms, “but only because I felt lenient today. Don’t make the same mistake and come without payment next time, got it?” 

“Next time?!” As she attempted to rise quickly, Annette stepped on the trailing edge of her cloak and fell unceremoniously onto the dark man’s chest. “Oh gods, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean--my cloak--I didn’t--”

“Get off me!” The man shoved her like her touch burned him. His face contorted in a grimace of panic, discomfort, and confusion. “I mean it! You seem nice enough, so let’s say I let you off with a warning this time.”

“Implying that you’re going to continue saying that I can’t come and go in my woods as I please?” Annette could feel her blood beginning to boil. After all she’d done, this vagabond still had the gall to try and intimidate her!

“Implying you should be more careful,” the wiry man loomed (only slightly) above her. 

Annette’s thin patience finally snapped. She strode swiftly forward, closing the distance between the stranger and herself. “You are truly the vilest, most horrid villain I’ve ever met, and I hope you burn in Ailell!” The man stumbled backward, seemingly cowed by her verbal assault and her finger jabbing into his sternum. “I will not allow you to intimidate me! I shall come and go as I please, and nothing you say is going to stop me!”With a turn on her heel, Annette stormed away. 

The dark-haired man blinked owlishly as she stomped off, utterly nonplussed. After a few moments, he raised a hand to his head. Taking off the rose garland, he weighted it in his hands contemplatively. Then, after a glance over each shoulder, he tucked it into his jerkin before disappearing into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> So a note on the canon-divergence: in this story, Felix and Annette didn't go to the Officer's Academy. Felix's reason will be revealed later, and Annette was just in the process of applying before the attacks began and shut everything down. The Agarthans are basically synchronized with British Isles stories about fae-folk. Almost everything else is the same with a few minor changes here and there.
> 
> I spent waaaaaay too long figuring out exactly how this first encounter should go. The one thing I knew I needed was Felix being an ass and also kind of short-circuiting when Annie doesn't take his bullshit. I waffled on making Annette completely oblivious, but I figured that wasn't in her nature to be quite so ignorant when there's been literal attacks in the realm recently. 
> 
> The tune for "Garland White and Round" is sort of an old kindergarten tune that I have stuck in my head but can't place the lyrics to. (Edit: it's "The Farmer in the Dell"). I figured it would be more like a song all kids grow up learning for the Garland Moon, so the tune would be more regular and the lyrics would be a little less whimsical than Annette's own compositions. And "The Flower Hunting Song" is to the tune of a slightly-more regular "Library Song" (couldn't bring myself to make that "with a big boom" work each stanza). I tried to emulate Annette's cutesy sensibilities with her songs in this one. (Please offer feedback if I nailed this. I'm gonna attempt to write more in the future.) 
> 
> I'm excited to get to the next encounter, and now that my residency interviews are done, I can (hopefully) write this unimpeded! 
> 
> Feedback appreciated! Thanks again!


	3. Chapter 2

Annette returned to the manor absolutely fuming. The one chance she had for a little diversion out of the stuffy house had turned into a Dagdan standoff with some moody fiend masquerading as an Unseen soldier! The nerve! The absolute gall! 

“Miss Dominic, are you alright?”

“Not now, Elaine,” the red-haired mage grumbled sharply. While she normally thought very fondly of the gardener, this was not the time for idle chatter. She needed to get to her room before her dangerously short temper caused any collateral damage. 

_‘That man was utterly insufferable! Stalking me, threatening me, then making demands of me! I absolutely cannot believe it!’_ Annette’s thoughts swirled violently as she stomped up the stairs to her chambers. Incensed as she was, she knew that she needed to calm down before she made a scene. 

Lately, there was so very little excitement in the barony that any deviation from the norm sent tremors through its attentive rumor mill. If her temper flared too badly, her excursions would be brought under closer scrutiny. And though she truly didn’t _need_ her uncle or mother’s blessing to go out, they could certainly _strongly encourage_ her to stay inside until things were safer. If such a thing came to pass, she might not have to worry about that dark-haired villain’s warning to avoid returning. She would be a prisoner in her own home once again. 

Perhaps her first outing to Carterhaugh had been spoiled by unwelcome company, but it was still the most excitement she’d had in months. She couldn’t give up the chance for some variety in her monotonous life. She knew her mind would languish in rot and decay if she stayed stuck here for another long, uninterrupted house-arrest while the Crown and the Church worked to restore safety to the woods again. No, she needed to keep Carterhaugh as her own wild retreat at any cost.

Arriving in her room, Annette plopped down to the ground and began untying her boots. She could still smell the damp soil and fragrant grass clinging to the soles. Her chest tightened at the fresh scent. She had to return. Whatever it took, she would make another excursion. Doffing her dusty, green cloak, Annette unbound her braids to fix her windswept hair. She needed it neat and out of the way. It was time for research. 

While she felt she had read every single book in the library (twice!), she needed to refresh her knowledge on folklore if the vagabond gave her trouble again. And maybe practice a few more combat forms after if there was time… Annette became a small, red whirlwind of activity: grabbing books from high library shelves, snagging apples from the kitchen, and grabbing quills and ink from the study. Before long, she had a nest of books, notes, and snacks strewn about her bedroom floor. 

Annette’s mind whirred like a gearbox. _‘It’s just like Mercie said’ she mused, ‘if there are rules, I can keep myself safe.’_ While she had reason to suspect that the vagabond was human, he did push her off suddenly when she fell on him...and she did still have her iron knife on her person at the time… Perhaps the sword he kept sheathed wasn’t steel? Perhaps his eyes didn’t glow because they were in direct sunlight? They were certainly striking, but perhaps the folklore had exaggerated. Maybe they just meant their eyes were vibrant? There was so much to sort through; so many questions she needed solid answers for.

And so, the mage dove headlong into her research. She copied sketches, compiled and organized notes in her own ciphered shorthand, and sorted each into piles based on the strength of the evidence. It felt good--in a strange way--to have something to latch onto, something of purpose and consequence. Annette hadn’t fallen down such a fit of research since classes had been suspended. It felt like all the cobwebs of her mind had fallen away, and that she could finally push herself again. She would hardly admit it to herself, (and certainly not to a certain dark-haired villain), but the excuse for a project had become a refreshing diversion. The hours flew by as her ink-stained hands sorted, read, wrote, and collated. She hardly noticed that the sun had already peaked past noon and was already drifting swiftly westward. 

Eventually, Annette stood up to carefully pace and stretch her aching neck. She’d remembered most of the important things from her recollections of fairy tales, but there were some strangely specific things worth noting. She mumbled her findings to herself, her go-to method to solidify her latest research as she padded across the carpeted floor. 

“Blondes are favored but more likely to be snatched up and whisked away… better let Mercie know that in my next letter… cream and fruit are considered favorable offerings...gold is fine but iron or steel are painful to their touch...weapons of unknown material, possibly bones, with powers beyond mortal weapons... taking on mortal shape and form...can make them change by passing over running water...stealing human children or mating with mortals...low birthrates but functionally immortal...”

A gentle knock came at her door, interrupting her thoughts. “Annette, darling, it’s nearly teatime. Are you hungry? I didn’t see you at lunch. Did you miss it?” 

Annette hopped over her circle of books to open the door. “Mother! I’m so sorry, I must have completely lost track of time.” 

Lady Joanna Dominic smiled in fond amusement at the barely-organized chaos in her daughter’s room. She knew this particular flurry of activity quite well. “I’m just glad you seem excited about something again. You’ve been so listless lately.” 

Annette smiled. Unlike her father--whose coloration she took after--she shared her mother’s slight build and love of books and research. They were kindred spirits. Annette had numerous fond memories upon her mother’s lap while she studied advanced magical theory. As she put on a fresh pair of house shoes, she replied, “Back when Mercedes visited, we got to talking about the Unseen Ones, and I decided to do some digging. Turns out there’s a lot more to those stories than I remembered!” 

Lady Dominic arched a single elegant brow in surprise, “Really now? I didn’t realize you would want to revisit old stories like that.” 

Annette closed the door and walked arm-in-arm with her mother at a leisurely pace. She didn’t want to scare her mother, so she tried to not lie outright. “Well, there’s all those rumors about the attacks being from the Unseen Court. I thought they were hogwash when I first heard them. But, I got intrigued about why exactly people were saying that, so I started digging and just couldn’t stop.” 

“I almost wish it was them. Then we could just keep some horseshoes along all the caravans and be done with this nonsense!” Lady Dominic’s bemused laugh had been in short supply since her husband had disappeared. Annette felt her heart swell with fondness to hear it again. Her mother used to be so cheerful, but now it felt almost strange to see her hazel eyes crinkle with laughter. Annette quietly vowed, once again, that she would find her father and bring him home, if only to apologize for dimming those merry eyes for so many years. 

As the two made their way to the parlor for afternoon tea, Annette discussed her more intriguing findings. Lady Dominic listened attentively as Annette chattered away. While her mother stood only three inches taller than her, Annette always thought she had a presence that belied her small stature. She hoped one day that she could have that sort of quiet dignity and poise. Sothis knew she didn’t have it now, but maybe this gangly gosling could become a swan like her mother. 

“And I never knew they were called the Fair Folk because they’re skin was so pale from being forced underground! I always thought it was a nice name to placate them into not hexing a farm.” Annette babbled away as she settled into her seat. 

“It’s quite possible that both are true.” Lady Dominic turned her attention to the servant readying their place settings, “Thank you, Simon, almond blend would be lovely.” Annette treasured this little table in the solar. It was an antique from her great-great-grandfather Jerome, carved from a single piece of maple and filled with whorled carvings that Annette loved to trace her fingers over. Besides being a treasured heirloom, this was where Annette and Lady Dominic had taken tea since Annette was ten. This had been one of the few bits of structure to survive Annette’s months of shapeless ennui. While simple, it felt nice to have this as a special moment between the two of them each day. 

Annette nibbled happily on the dainty cucumber sandwiches while Simon brewed their tea. As the comfortable silence stretched, Lady Dominic’s smile faded and grew melancholic. “You remind me so much of Gustave some days, Annie.” 

Annette swallowed. “I hope that’s not a bad thing…”

“Oh not at all, dear,” Lady Dominic placed a fond hand to her daughter’s cheek. “You have so much of his enthusiasm and determination. I’m grateful that you have so much of him in you.” 

Annette’s heart ached. She missed her father, but watching her mother pine for him hurt far worse. “Determination I can see, but enthusiasm? Father was always so stern from my memories of him.” 

“Oh, he matured quite a bit before we had you. When we first met in Fhirdiad, he almost got seriously injured trying to impress me.”

“I’ve never heard this story before.” 

“Well, I feel you’re certainly old enough to know. I was at the Royal School of Sorcery at the time, and I was with a few friends in town to pick up some supplies. Well, a group of off-duty knights came by and, well, Nadeen Rowe and Terese Boudeaux couldn’t resist flirting with them, so we ended up spending the rest of the afternoon with them. 

Your father was clearly trying to look impressive, but I could tell he was rather nervous when we spoke. He was a bit bashful, but he was so earnest that I couldn’t help but find him endearing. His fellow knights were bragging about their accolades and giving him a hard time for being so young. Well, they seemed to have gotten under his skin. After their ribbing, he just turned to me all of a sudden and--apropos of nothing--asked for my hair ribbon. I gave it to him and then--just like Sir Inverness in the old stories--he took my ribbon and began climbing up that tall pine in the center of the market square!” 

“He wasn’t doing a ribbon feat in the middle of town, was he?!”

“He did! Completely unprompted, and in full armor too, so the tree branches were bowing underneath him as he got toward the top. When he finally tied it, the one he was standing on snapped, and he hit nearly every branch on the way down. I panicked and started healing him on the spot. And he just said, ‘If a few broken ribs win your favor, then it would be worth my while.’” Lady Dominic smiled warmly at the memory. 

“The whole time we courted, it seemed like he would rush ahead as soon as an idea entered his head. As soon as I mentioned off-hand that I’d never ridden a horse, he ran back to the castle to bring his steed to me and taught me that very afternoon.” 

Annette smiled. Her father had been a knight of Faerghus for nearly 35 years. Most stories she heard of him dealt with his service to the Crown, on the battlefield, or in diplomacy. It was nice to know he once was young, in love, and a little overeager. 

“More than anything, Annie, he always did what he thought was right. Even as he stumbled through mistakes, he always held true to his convictions. I see that spark in you, researching even a remote way to help end this crisis.” Joanna reached out to hold Annette’s hand. “My dear, you are going to do great things in your life. I see that same spark in you that I saw in your father. I know it’s been hard staying here and not going to the Officer’s Academy like you’d planned, but don’t let that dampen your drive. It is something unique to you. Whatever you can do to keep it alive and hungry will benefit you and all of Fódlan someday.” 

With a watery smile, Annette replied, “Thank you, Mother.”

After dampening their handkerchiefs, both Lady Dominic and Annette enjoyed their time together as mother and daughter. Annette knew that her mother had a sixth sense for knowing exactly what was bothering her only child. Even though she didn’t know the whole story, Lady Dominic had indirectly given Annette just the words she needed to hear. 

The forest, her education, her friends, her peace of mind, her country all seemed to be tied to these rumors. And now that she’d seen someone assailing people in the woods, perhaps she could take it back. This could be more than just petty revenge on one rogue, if she attacked it from the right angle. 

As they finished tea, Annette walked briskly back to her room. With renewed vigor, she attacked her research. 

It was time for a plan. 

It was time for answers.

It was time to go back to Carterhaugh Woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! 
> 
> I wanted this to be a little breather before we get into some more stuff with Felix again. So, we get some details on Annette and her relationship with her mom. 
> 
> The ribbon feat that I described is based off a similar tradition from my mother-in-law's home region in the Komi Republic. I found it so charming that I decided to work it into the lore. Basically, you take a ribbon of your beloved's favorite color and tie it to either the highest tree branch you can reach or the highest rafter of the nearby church and this can act as a proposal. 
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who has read this so far! It gives me so much joy to see that so many of you are enjoying this little, self-indulgent fantasy piece I've cobbled together. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. This is a project many months in the making. I'm hoping to write far enough ahead that I can actually upload consistently, but we will see. This idea has been on my mind SINCE MARCH and I'm so excited to offer this little start to what it will be!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and stay tuned!
> 
> If you would like more information on the story of Tam Lin, OSP's video on the story is a pretty solid place to start. https://youtu.be/UF3O6Xkpscs


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